Sunday, lovely sunday
May0
What a nice day.
Gord was over visiting from San Diego, so after I got out of bed about midday (like many people with disabilities, I’m exceptionally lazy), we wandered up Notting Hill and stopped for some overpriced lunch at le pain quotidien. Gord ordered a tartine, which we foolishly assumed we be some sort of small tart. But no, it was a sandwich - albeit one with the top half missing. 9 of your earthling pounds this cost him, although having just come over from the states, he was refreshed by the completely uninterested nature of the serving staff (not disinterested, that means something different). I had a tuna salad which was much better from a cost/benefit point of view, and probably the most healthy meal I’ve had in a month or so.
Then spent another couple of hours wandering through hyde park before heading to the gig at the Queen’s Head, organised by the lovely Dale Lately. There was some sort of disturbance around central london, saw 3 meat wagons and a couple of jam sandwiches zooming down there - never really found out what it was about (I suspect Millwall had something to do with it- although that’s probably a very unfair thing to say - I’m sure they’re no longer the thugs that they used to be) (or are they?) (no)
Gig went very well - managed not to forget my stuff like last night. I was completely petrified of forgetting it, until Alex suggested I write stuff on my hand. I never used to do this, because I think it looks crap, but it really worked - I didn’t even need to look at it, just having it their gave me the confidence to get through my set. I fucked up the ‘people on this side of the room’ joke by changing to be dale, who was sitting in the corner, but I think overall it went very well. Dale was very complimentary and said I could come back anytime, and a couple of the other comics who hadn’t seen me before were very nice as well. Result. Still no groupies mind.
The wonderful jay foreman was playing - I really do love his songs - especially I’m Glad John Lennon’s Dead. The sick and twisted Alex Harvey joint won the slam with his brilliant new Catherine Tate routine, so we were treated to two minutes of disgusting, intellectual-property infringing pornographic harry potter stories. He’d better hope Time Warner never hear his set, or he’ll be being sued quicker than you can say ‘Expecto Lawsuitum ab Harry Potter Fellatio’.
Gord commented on how supportive we newbie comics are, and it’s true. Sometimes I love doing this.
Stockwell tonight at the fantastic Cavendish Arms (I realise I’m gushing a bit here, but I’m just starting out in this crazy business we call show & I don’t think I’m in a position to slag anyone off yet - wait until I’ve played the apollo and then I’ll be the horrible misanthrope you expect from comedians) - I’ve played twice before there & always done well - so I suppose in true comedic fashion, I should subvert the tradition on the 3rd iteration and die horribly.
I don’t think I will, though.